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They’re doing exactly what they said they would, and I’d be an idiot to pretend they didn’t just prove they meant what they said on the first day of the semester.
More than prove it.
They’re choosing me over Gray.
“Fuck off, Gray,” Elias mutters, and before I know it, I’m practically pinned between Elias and Declan as they drag me away, protecting me from the crowd with their bodies.
I barely get one glance back at Gray as we go. He’s still standing with people surrounding him, his fists hanging by his sides, an inscrutable look on his face that makes my heart twist in my chest.
No. I can’t feel sorry for him.
I can’t feel sorry for him, because he did this to himself. He’s my enemy, not my friend anymore, and he’s made that very fucking clear.
We keep walking until we’re almost all the way across campus, away from the school buildings and closer to the dorms. There are fewer people over here, and Declan finally stops and turns to me, his eyes scanning my body as if I was the one who just got into a fist-fight with Gray.
“Are you okay?” he asks, searching me with his gaze. There’s something in his eyes that makes my heart do a funny squeeze in my chest that I’m not sure I like. His hands press into my forearms, almost desperately, like he needs me to be okay.
“Why…” I try to find my voice, but it feels small, hoarse. “Why did you do that?”
I know why they did it. They’ve already told me why they did it, they told me a week ago in that little alcove they pulled me into. They told me they were on my side, but I didn’t believe it.
I still almost don’t believe it, but I should, shouldn’t I? How could I not believe it after what I just witnessed?
Declan’s hand skims up my arm, his eyes stormy. “We said we’d have your back, Soph. We meant it.”
“Even though we know you can stand up for yourself.” Elias chuckles, although his expression is as serious as Declan’s. “We actually had a bet last semester,” he tells me. “A bet we lost. We bet Taylor that you’d get into a fist-fight with Caitlin before the end of the semester.”
“A bet…”
My brows pull together. I think I remember something like that from the night of the party.
I remember Taylor calling to them from across the kitchen, telling them to pay up.
“That’s what your bet was about?” I ask, turning my head to catch his gaze.
“Yeah.” He rolls his eyes. “It was stupid. Although if you ever decide you do want to fight Caitlin, I’ll be there to cheer you on all the way.” His smile falls, and he takes a step closer, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Declan in front of me. “But if anyone’s going to fight Gray, it’s going to be one of us. Not you. We won’t let him hurt you.”
My heart gives a hard thud, like a motor trying to start, like a dead thing wanting to come to life. Wanting to resurrect itself from the grave I buried it in a long time ago. Wanting to step out of the dark where it’s safe and into a strange world of feelings and trust and need that I’m so fucking scared of.
My gaze flicks to Declan. He’s serious. So fucking serious. He’s got a bruise on his face from where Gray punched him, and I brush my fingers over it without thinking, as if feeling it will be the last piece of proof that finally allows me to let go and trust.
He leans into my touch, taking another step toward me so that his thighs brush up against my thighs, and before I can stop to think about what I’m doing, I lean in and I kiss him.
His response is instant, knee weakening, and deep. Like he’s searching for something I have, something only I can give him, something he needs. He steals the breath from my lungs, and the ache in my heart is banished by the hungry press of his lips.
When we break apart for air, I don’t think about it. I can’t think about it as my hands find Elias and pull him to me, crushing him with a kiss that’s just as deep and desperate and hot as Declan’s, just as soul-destroying. Elias is confident with his kiss, his tongue sliding across the seam of my mouth, silently demanding that I give him everything.
When I let him in, Declan makes a noise in the back of his throat as his fingers brush up against the back of my arm. Not because he’s jealous of his friend, but because he already needs me again. He already needs the touch, the taste, the connection. He needs me in the same way Elias is kissing me—with a hunger that seems unending.
Heat flares in the pit of my stomach before sliding even lower, and I tear myself away and take a step back, sucking in a breath as I look between Elias and Declan. My heart beats loud, steady, so fast I think it’s going to fall out of me, but it’s not fear I’m feeling.
It’s not confusion or guilt.
My heart races because I suddenly know exactly what I want.
And they seem to know too.
The air between us changes, charging with the sort of electric energy that precedes a storm. I could probably stand here for another hour debating the wisdom of what I’m about to do, but I don’t really care anymore whether it’s wise or not.
